


The Last Song

by OwnerOfAllTears



Series: Victoria Shelby [2]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Original Character(s), original shelby character, plain and simple, shelby sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwnerOfAllTears/pseuds/OwnerOfAllTears
Summary: Dancing. Laughing. A night full of surprises. What will future hold?
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Victoria Shelby [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802149
Kudos: 14





	The Last Song

The dancing couples. The sparkling champagne and glistening jewels. The scent of expensive perfumes mixing with the fragrance of the flower arrangements decorating the hall. Fake smiles, stiff collars, shoulders clad in fur. It was all so fascinating, watching the toffs in their natural habitat. The way these people carried their lives, surrounded by luxury and beauty like it was the most natural thing in the world. Tommy insisted the family now belonged amongst these people, but Victoria found it hard to fit in. Nor that she didn’t try, and admittedly, she enjoyed some parts of it such as the pretty clothes and being able to like something and just buy it without a second thought. But mingling with this lot was most tedious, speaking about coffee mornings, capercaillie hunting, social seasons and who wore the biggest pearls or largest emeralds. For Vicky, who had been raised amongst mud and dirt, jumping barefoot in puddles and permanently exposed to swearing, drinking and fighting, this was as close as you could get to being a fish out of the water.

But she endured, for her family’s sake. Tommy and Polly seemed to be in their element, charming guests left and right, while Ada spoke communism to an audience who could not care less about her views of equality. John and Arthur stood by the side, sipping drinks and making sure to stay in control of their senses enough to not let anything too inappropriate slip past their lips, although they were barely holding it together. Meanwhile Finn seemed to be taking advantage of the lack of supervision to down as much alcohol as possible before someone gave him an earful – or ear pull for that matter. Victoria had left his side after the second whiskey made him speak a little too loud and walk a little too wobbly, instead resorting to be a nice ‘hostess’ and speak to guests, per Tommy’s instructions, obviously. After a couple tries she found that what she had to do was simply let people talk about themselves, since toffs do love talking about their money and power. All she had to do in return was smile and nod, and receive the overly sweet compliments of daring young men who had gone a little too far with the wine. Not that those adulations were undeserved, not at all. That night, she earned them all.

When the gala’s date was settled, she didn’t think she’d need anything too fancy and figured her only evening gown would be enough, without taking into consideration Polly’s intervention. Victoria was dragged to a exclusive seamstress, fine fabrics and stones were bought, and here she was. Golden and white silk gauze, with tiny crystals beaded at the waist and golden thread embroidery in the shoulders. It was perhaps a little too close fitting and the neckline a bit deeper than the norm, but the overall assemble, with the dazzling jewels and elaborately braided hairdo, was exquisite. Despite looking, in her opinion, like an overproduced boutique mannequin, Vicky felt truly beautiful, in the way that you do when you try something new and bold and you are on top of the world. God knows she needed that boost of confidence for the night.

~

After dinner was served and before the energies were drained over glasses of strong liquor, Polly stood from her seat at the head of the table and gently clicked a spoon against her glass.

 _“May I have your attention?”_ Her smiles were dashing and voice soft as silk. _“I’d like to invite you all to enter the concert hall please. We have prepared some entertainment for you this evening”_ Before any of the confused family members could protest or spoil the treat; she gave Lizzie a meaningful glance, whom in return grabbed hold of Tommy’s arm and lead him into the hall, the trail of guests following right behind him. Everything had already been laid out, the players in place with their instruments, and a single violin perched atop of a stool, waiting.

The lights softened, spectators falling into darkness and chattering dying down as the focus fell upon the musicians. Most importantly, on the main violinist, who had just walked in.

Victoria

This whole crazy idea of the concert had been planned by Polly and Lizzie, with some input from Ada. Vicky herself had found out a couple weeks prior that the event would include a musical performance, and she’d be the main star. All set up as a surprise for Tommy, who for starter didn’t even know his youngest sister could play any instrument at all.

Truth was, up to a little over a year ago she couldn’t have even played a single note with some decency. But with her finally done with school and her family still adamant in keeping her away from the business, despite having proved several times that she was more reliable and a far better shooter than Finn, Victoria needed something to fill in the long hours of solitude. Horses could only take up so much time, her shooting was polished as a sniper, and Vicky was not going to sit in the library to knit and embroider the day away.

The girl had always had an affinity for music and melodies, but from mere appreciation to actually being a musical person was a long way, and Vicky learnt that the hard way. She had enlisted Lizzie’s help to get in contact with Charlie’s violin teacher, and Polly agreed to pay for it. Lessons were held anywhere where Tommy wouldn’t be, for Victoria would rather eat her tongue than allow Tom or any of her brothers to hear her baby steps in the music field. Especially since those first steps had been so wobbly and rough that at some point the lessons were more like a self-appointed torment rather than a desire for a new skill.

But the efforts were worthwhile, and now it was time to prove it. In front of an audience of over a hundred people, soft lights surrounding her, and curious gazes following her every move as she placed the violin over her shoulder. Nerves had dried her mouth and caused her knees to tremble, but the reassuring smiles of her family sitting in the first row pushed her to raise the bow and slowly pour her feelings into the strings. The song was slow and melancholic, saddening notes floating in a deliciously sad tune which stung like tears and tasted like sweet nectar with a bitter aftertaste. A song that hurt yet you couldn’t stop listening; made you cry yet you didn’t want it to stop. Masterpiece in itself, played out wonderfully in the inexperienced hands of the first time violinist, shining like a star.

Her whole ensemble had a mesmerizing effect; the vaporous fabric of her dress catching the lights in a way that casted an ethereal aura around her, the golden threads woven in her hair giving her a light of her own, the diamonds around her neck shimmering like stars. The way the instrument fit perfectly in the curve of her neck, gently nestled under her cheek, causing jealousy in those who wished could be blessed to touch the dream in front of them. A goddess in full splendour.

Notes floated in the air, the produced melody having a deep effect on the audience; a sheet of deep sadness and dejection had fallen over every man and woman, accompanied by a heart tightening feeling. Without a word, just the magic of her hands, Victoria had brought an entire concert hall to the brink of tears. Even her own eyes had welled up, the emotion contained in the song spreading through her nerves, her body vibrating in sync with the strings.

The song slowly reached its end. The sorrowful notes falling from the violin with every touch of the bow, in preparation for the grand finale. Vicky’s eyebrows knitted in concentration, eyes closed to shut her mind to the world and just focus, think, _feel_ the music. Everyone could sense the changes in the air, the prelude to the end, tension rising with each contraction of her muscles, the speeding of the bow as the song rose to the top, the climax of the melody unfolding in a string of heartrending notes, diminishing slowly like the fading flame of the candle in the wind. People marvelled at the talent, spellbound by the angel descended from Heaven gracing them with her music. A man stood in the darkness amongst the public, arm stretched forward as if wanting to touch Victoria, feel her and make sure she was real. His eyes had brimmed with tears, filled with adoration, and regret. He forced himself to close his lids. If he allowed himself to feel, he’d fail.

A single bang ripped through the air.

Rising screams and the roll of a tear.

And then, pain.

~

When Victoria was little, before the war and the business drained the happiness away, Aunt Polly used to pack a picnic, round up the children (no matter the age, they were still children) and take them for a day out, away from the polluted city and dirty businesses. They would go wherever there was a patch of grass for the kids to run, and trees to offer some shadow. Old blankets would be laid, sandwiches and bottles passed around, and soon jokes and laughter would be filling the air. The grownups smiling as Finn and Victoria chased each other, the boy being as slow as possible to allow his toddler sister to catch him. They would sometimes fall and roll, their hairs and mouths filled with grass and leaves. Arthur and Tommy just laughed, while John wondered when his own child would begin to walk and join the fun, trying to encourage the baby to give his first steps unsuccessfully.

Vicky’s favourite place for picnics was a meadow not too far away; near of where the Lees would camp out when they were around town. The waters were shallow, perfect for splashing around in a hot summer day, and a short walk up the hill gave them the perfect view of the valleys. In the top sat a single ancient oak, with a huge, knotty trunk and twisted branches spreading far and wide. That tree was Victoria’s favourite spot to sit and nap with her siblings after a long day swimming. And that same spot was where she begged they would put Tommy’s gravestone, for even if he was not going to be buried, she wanted a place to lay flowers; a place to remember him.

What occurred in that split second would always remain a mystery for her and everyone. When that man stood, shielded by the dark, no one could have noticed the gun concealed in his gloved hand. No one but a Peaky Blinder. How could he have guessed, how did he sense the danger, no one knew. But in a split, fateful second, in that one moment between the pulling of the trigger, and the unfolding of the chaos, Tommy stood up. As if he had known all along what was coming, he barely had managed to look over his shoulder when the bullet was shot. Everyone ran in every possible direction, escaping the concert hall. John had grabbed hold of the shooter, and the man knew in that second that he wouldn’t live to tell the tale. Ada seemed lost, while Polly rushed to call for help. But it was futile. Vicky knew it the moment she cradled her brother’s head in her lap, staining with crimson red her gown and hands, that he would be long gone before anyone could arrive to help. Tommy always joked that Victoria was the only one he would take a bullet for. She never thought the joke would become reality.

Rooted to the spot, Victoria kneeled there in the pool of blood long after the paramedics had carried away Tommy. Polly and Ada both tried to shake her awake from her thoughts, but it was clear something had broken inside her. Many times she feared this moment, and every time those dismal sceneries played behind her lids at night, she always pictured herself screaming and crying, swearing up at the skies and trashing the world with her bare hands. She never thought she’d find herself so numb. Numb and cold, like standing under the snow for hours on end, with drenched clothes sticking to her skin and gelid wind cutting her cheeks.

But this cold was different.

It was more than just frostbite at her skin; it was a clawing at her heart, the sinking of sharp fangs in her throat stealing her breath away, nails like knives piercing through her soul and blood freezing in her veins; the whispering of haunting thoughts in her ear. It was overwhelming, agonizing, torturing and exhausting. Grief was a monster, a burden too heavy to carry, depleting her of any energy, the blossoming girl turned into a drained body that could only sit by and feel the cold. A glacial blanket that didn’t even melt away when they stood in front of the bonfire that had become her brother’s vardo, shrouded in Ada’s mourning clothes for lack of her own; John’s firm grip holding her tight, partly out of fear that she’d try and run into the wagon, like she did three times before they could close it. Vicky was forced to sit tight and watch her brother become smoke and ashes, along with every memory they had of him. The little Shelby had managed to hold onto some belongings, defending them with tooth and nail from anyone who tried to take them away. A peaked cap with the sewn in razors, a gold pocket watch, a picture wearing his army uniform, bearing all of his medals; the first bullet he took, kept in his desk as a lucky token. A photograph of them both, near the ‘Fontaines de la Concorde’, during the trip they made to France for her birthday. That was all that remained of the great Thomas Michael Shelby.

The house seemed colder that night, despite the raging fires crackling merrily in the hearths. Victoria slipped into her bed fully dressed, praying for the sleep that would never come. In a corner of her room stood her new dress torn to shreds, along with the splinters and strings of a once beautiful violin. Tossing and turning, eyes wide open, her gaze landed on the pile hidden in the shadows. Just watching those items caused her throat to tighten painfully, and in an outburst of rage, she stood and threw those items into the fire, hoping to burn away the cold like they had burned away her brother. But she realized, as tears finally rolled down her cheeks, and wrecking sobs racked her body, that nothing would ever placate the grief.

The cold had come to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> You didn't see that one coming, did you?


End file.
